I've been doing some self-introspection lately, and I have found something. This something is that I don't make myself happy.
Now, this isn't a tangent about how I hate myself, no. I am content with the way I am. But it means that I work so hard to make others be okay that I often forget about myself. I've had moments after a hard day where I look into the mirror in my room and see greasy hair, a tired face and body, and those oh-so-prominent circles I get under my eyes. And I wonder; "Has anything gone alright today?". Then the phone will ring or the computer will beep, and I'll be off and fixing a friend's problem, and I give myself no other thoughts for quite some time (say, a month or two).
My mother is telling me that I need to make myself happy for once, is pressuring me to do so, in fact. Saying that I need to find some friends and become more confident so that I will be content. But I realized that that really wouldn't make me happy. I am happiest when I am helping somebody else, putting their needs before my own. I can have a horrible migrane (which I get often), and somebody asks me to get them a Coke...and I get up, and I do it, all thoughts of my headache pushed aside.
Sure, I want friends, don't get me wrong. But I will live to make those people happy. Why? That's how I become happy myself.
Introspection over.
Atomic_Ink_Blot · Tue Jul 12, 2005 @ 09:16pm · 1 Comments |